


A Lover's Lexicon

by aurics



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Relationship Study, Shorts, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-06-16 17:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15442209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurics/pseuds/aurics
Summary: "They say a picture speaks a thousand words; but darling, I'd rather speak a thousand words if it means hours of being in your company."A love story told in twenty-six letters, several hundred sentences, and a few thousand words.





	1. A

**Author's Note:**

> heavily inspired by david levithan's beautiful book [the lover's dictionary](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/9279177-the-lover-s-dictionary). much credit to him - i really nicked his idea and toyed with it a lot! 
> 
> as of now, i've only planned to follow coupjeong's relationship - but i may explore other otps if the flow allows!

 

**abnegate** _(v.)_

 

The group assignment for the project has, in retrospect, been a godsend. After delivering a successful presentation, the team of four decides to go out for dinner and perhaps a round or two of drinks—just something manageable now that they’re postgraduates and no longer the overenthusiastic, hyper-charged undergrads they once were.

They get onto the topic of relationships, thanks to Jisoo’s recount of a particularly bad date, and when Jisoo and Junhui both excuse themselves to retire early Seungcheol shuffles his seat closer to Jeonghan’s around the circular table. The high points of his cheeks are a pretty shade of pink and his eyes are only slightly unfocused from the wine they’ve had, his grin toothy and laugh unrestrained.

“Now it’s just the two of us,” he giggles, nudging Jeonghan with his shoulder before resting his head in the crook of Jeonghan’s neck. “My head feels heavy.”

“Told you not to drink more than three glasses with your steak, glutton,” mutters Jeonghan, fighting to keep his own eyes open. “For a guy who did all the statistical calculations on our projects you sure are one shit mathematician.”

Seungcheol draws back, frowning. “And for a guy who came up with the marketing strategy—“ he pauses. “You’re kind of cute.”

It’s fleeting, only a small, but firm press of the lips, yet Jeonghan can taste the wine Seungcheol ordered in his mouth long after he pulls away.

“I don’t usually do this,” Seungcheol licks his bottom lip, stares at Jeonghan’s own. “Kiss someone before a proper date. Or—shit. I don’t do this, ever.” 

Jeonghan frowns, ignoring the way his hand is reaching out for Seungcheol’s shirt sleeve. “What? Is this your first kiss or something?”

“No, I just—I shouldn’t do this, we haven’t even gone on a proper date.” He’s still staring at Jeonghan’s mouth. “But god, you taste delicious.”

They meet each other halfway, movements a little more desperate, Jeonghan letting his lips slide between Seungcheol’s as he tilts his head a little. But it’s over far too quickly as Seungcheol pulls away, chest heaving and there’s something in his eyes that kicks sobriety into Jeonghan like the settling of a slow, cold dread. 

“I need to go. I’m sorry.”

The guilt in Seungcheol’s eyes makes it obvious that it’s not Jeonghan he’s apologising to.

 

 

 

**accuse** _(v.)_

 

Perhaps Jeonghan shouldn’t find it surprising that Seungcheol leaves him on ‘ _Read'_ for the rest of the week, even though the only text Jeonghan sends is an innocent request for the recording of their presentation that was filmed on Seungcheol’s phone. Nothing is a more obvious testament to the fact that there’s something more to it—something more than not having taken Jeonghan out on a proper date, or whatever.

It doesn’t stop Jeonghan from blaming his lack of productivity on Seungcheol, the thought of what could possibly have lent that guilty look on Seungcheol’s face plaguing his mind and robbing him of his concentration.

Usually one to get average or, on the odd good days, above average marks, Jeonghan comes home at the end of that semester with a near-failing grade on one of his modules.

It was all Seungcheol's fault.

  
  


**acrimony** _(n.)_

 

It builds up the longer their silence stretches—over the Spring break, no less, when Jeonghan moves out of the postgrad student accommodation to live with Jisoo, with whom he shares many classes and can therefore hopefully coax into making breakfast for the both of them during lazy mornings. Though Jeonghan spends time in coffee shops with his friends and gets lost between the alleys of street shops, there’s a nameless irritation that bubbles in him whenever his mind wanders off to the way Seungcheol’s eyes crinkle in delight under the orange lighting in that restaurant, or the small giggle he had let out after licking the last drops of the wine bottle away from his lips, the drunkard.

Jeonghan hates letting his guard down because the memory is warped in his mind—wistful, nostalgic. The resentment drains him of precious energy, but he nevertheless lets it pile up like stacks of books, precariously balanced on a thin shelf.

When they finally bump into each other on campus again, Jeonghan stares past him and takes the longer route to class.

But strength overpowers agility. One day Seungcheol catches up, and the stack of books come crashing down.

  
  


**admit** _(v.)_

 

“It was a bad relationship and I wanted to get out—badly. Maybe in my head I was already out of it, I don’t even remember him most of the time. Or I try not to. Working with you, and then _kissing_ you that night even though I shouldn’t have I felt like—“

Silence.

“We broke up. I was immature and it should have happened earlier, but it’s over. There’s no one else, now."

  
  


**aftermath** _(n.)_

 

Jeonghan doesn’t remember the last time he’s done this, made out in the hallway of his shared (but empty, thank god) flat that’s only barely wide enough for one person to squeeze through, let alone to press someone of Seungcheol’s size against the wall. The confession isn’t something Jeonghan can deal with in the courtyard of the campus library so he’d told Seungcheol to have a coffee or tea at home with him, cheaper than a coffee shop, and maybe he can say hi to Jisoo on the way, too, because God knows when the last time he’d contacted any of them was.

But Jeonghan has never been patient, and Seungcheol’s skin tastes even better than the daydreams Jeonghan’s had to live with for the entirety of Spring break. He sucks on the spot just below Seungcheol’s ear, piercings nudging his nose and presses him harder against the wall with a roll of his hips, fingers tracing the waistband of Seungcheol’s boxers from under his dress-shirt, reveling in the warmth of Seungcheol’s lower back. It makes Jeonghan kiss him harder, grind against him faster even though it’s only been a minute since they walked in—and he’s only managed to get his hand to grab at dark, black locks when Seungcheol pushes him away.

“Fuck’s sake,” Jeonghan growls, fingers still in Seungcheol’s hair, resisting the urge to pull back it back and slam his head against the wall. “What is it now? Forgot to cancel your regular booty call?”

“What— _no_. We’re here to talk.”

Seungcheol moves to leave the wall but Jeonghan pushes him back against it, mouth set tight in a displeased line. “Your time to talk is four months overdue, Choi Seungcheol.”

“No,” Seungcheol says again, and Jeonghan has no idea how but he’s got Jeonghan’s wrists in a weak grip, as if preparing for Jeonghan’s next refusal. “I want to do this properly with you. I don’t want any of us to be unhappy. I know we got off on the wrong foot—"

“You said _nothing_ for an entire month—"

“I know but… please.” Seungcheol squeezes his eyes shut. “He took me for granted and I ended up doing the same to him—we were still together, but we had nothing to really justify that commitment. It made us feel entitled to… to own one another, even though there was less affection between us than an owner and his pet. Jealousy that didn’t make sense, guilt that shouldn’t even be there—it was because we rushed into it, thinking we knew what we wanted, but—“

Seungcheol is trembling like he’s cold, and belatedly, Jeonghan thinks they should have had this talk over a warm cup of coffee.

“Please don’t make me go through it again."

  
  


**apologise** _(v.)_

 

Seungcheol pauses in the doorway. Neither Jeonghan nor Jisoo are very good bakers, but Jeonghan lets Seungcheol have a pack of his favourite cookies anyway like a pathetic excuse for an apology—or a bribe, Jeonghan can’t decide with his morals muddied up like murky rainwater. Seungcheol stares at it.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Jeonghan finds it easy to forgive Seungcheol.

"I didn’t want to talk about it until I was really out of the relationship, and until I could be sure.”

“That what?”

“That I’m worthy of giving this a shot."

  
  


**assuringly** _(adv.)_

 

He’s not that kind of guy, Seungcheol tells Jeonghan at the library as they browse books. He’ll prove to Jeonghan he’s not just messing around.

Jeonghan shrugs. “Cool.” He doesn’t find any reason to not believe Seungcheol. Not yet, anyway.

“Dinner at 7? I’ll pick you up.”

Jeonghan smiles. “Cool."

  
  


**atonement** (n.)

 

Seungcheol doesn’t kiss him until he’s dropped Jeonghan off at his doorsteps again; but when he does, he presses Jeonghan against the door and strokes their tongues together languidly, presses fingers to his jaw in a way that makes Jeonghan think he’s holding something back. But as much as he wants Seungcheol to fuck him on the nearest surface and flush the tension right out of his system, he doesn’t push it; simply leans back against the door and opens his mouth a little wider with a hand on Seungcheol’s nape pulling him down and impossibly closer.

Because maybe this is Seungcheol’s way of making things right; so Jeonghan lets him.


	2. B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (pssstt if you haven't seen already, I added another entry in the first chapter that I stupidly left out. Sorry, had a brain malfunction last time. enjoy this chapter!)

**balance** _(n.)_ and **balancing** _(v.)_

 

Seungcheol calls his mother twice a week, texts his parents every day—even when they’re strolling down Garosugil with its hectic hubbub of a crowd, Seungcheol never fails to spare some time to shoot off a _goodnight_ text to his parents who probably, in Jeonghan’s fantasy, fall asleep like babies knowing they’ve got Seungcheol as their son. When Seungcheol excuses himself for two seconds to speak gently into his phone, Jeonghan finds himself typing up a message for his parents that, while conversationally pointless, he thinks may be appreciated.

Seungcheol bows to everyone he meets, even little children in his cheeky way of his. He speaks up in classes and discussion groups like he knows people are listening him, and he stays quiet when others prove that they, in fact, do not. 

He picks Jeonghan up on time on every one of their dates, once profusely apologising for four minutes late (four minutes that Jeonghan was thankful for, since he's barely managed to pull on a pair of trousers at that point). After three dates Jeonghan actually starts getting ready on time.

Seungcheol is also quick to take offence, short-tempered especially in situations that involve Jeonghan—which sometimes flatters him, and exasperates him other times. And here, Jeonghan tries to be the cold breeze that cuts through the stifling chokehold of a heatwave; drags him away slowly when a supervisor is being particularly difficult about his final dissertation, distracts him with jokes when the service in a restaurant is particularly rude, reminds him that _It’s just a game!_ when Jisoo somehow kicks his ass in DOTA despite never having played it before.

Even before they started dating, Jeonghan has always been ice to Seungcheol's often blazing ambitions and fiery moods, because he knows that when Seungcheol finally factor him into the situation—when he turns to Jeonghan with his frown and downturned mouth—the blazes will die down, drenched by the coolness of rainwater.

 

 **banter** _(n.)_

 

“That night we went out for drinks during New Year’s? Jeonghan barely moved on the dance floor.”

“Yes I did!” 

“No you really did not. We could’ve set up a tripod right there and then.”

 

  
“I am so lonely. I am positively _inconsolable_.”

Jeonghan can hear the smile in Seungcheol’s reply. “Drama queen. It’s only been a day!”

“I’m not joking. I’m so miserable—it’s almost like having you here.”

 

“Hey, Jeonghan, I’m here to pick up—aw, are you making pancakes for me? You shouldn’t have. I didn’t even stay over—“

“Actually, they were for me, but you can have some I guess."

 

Chan, the undergrad Jeonghan is tutoring for a term: “With all the insults you guys throw at each other, I’m surprised you aren’t married yet.”

“We’ve only been dating for two months!” squawks Jeonghan, suddenly glad Seungcheol isn’t around to hear it.

“Seriously?” Chan blinks. “I could have sworn you guys have dated for longer. It’s like you just… understand each other."

 

 

 

 **beautiful** _(adj.)_

 

Walking back from campus to a café nearby, where they plan to spend the rest of the day crunching out the last of their dissertation, Seungcheol is a pace or two ahead of Jeonghan as usual—always a little impatient to get to their destination and grab the best table, kick Jeonghan’s legs under the table and watch him sip at his drink like he hasn’t grown familiar to the sight after one and a half years. Jeonghan says something he doesn’t remember anymore, offhandedly. Nothing consequential. But then Seungcheol looks back at him and gives him a smile he can only describe as _tender_ —not too wide, just enough to show teeth and for the dimples around his mouth to come out and frame his full, pink lips like a picture, almost looking _boyish_ —

Jeonghan blinks, suddenly breathless.

That is just one instance.

There are more, like the time he dyes his hair a light brown and Jeonghan has to twine his own fingers together to stop himself from tugging it. Or the time he shows up to their joint office hours with the TA late, golden wire-rimmed glasses askew on his face and a lopsided grin that makes Jeonghan uncomfortable in his plush consultation chair. Once, when they go for a picnic with their group of friends on a chilly February afternoon and he tries to smile through the red on his nose and the chatter in his teeth. More often than not, Jeonghan’s guard is always low during such trying times, but he’s always pleasantly surprised by how quickly his heart drops, and jumps back up—like he doesn’t know whether he should be swooning or thoroughly exasperated.

(One time, in a fit of fond frustration after Jeonghan has picked the fifth shirt before a date, Seungcheol has Jeonghan in a chokehold; and soon, thick, calloused fingers around Jeonghan's pale, slender neck. The sight Jeonghan sees in the mirror has him reeling and doesn't leave his mind for days.)

And without fail, such moments unlock the desperate wants that Jeonghan keeps vaulted: to know what it’s like to wake up and see Seungcheol first thing in the morning with his messy bird nest of a hair—would he smile in his sleep? Would he groan in annoyance from the sun's intrusion? Would he let Jeonghan pepper kisses along his shoulder and neck, settle his face in the warm crook before making his way down, down, past the expanse of skin that Jeonghan knows will be incredibly, astoundingly—

There are too many to count.

 

 

 

 **bed** _(n.)_

 

Seungcheol invites Jeonghan into his room—in the middle of the day, with the sun shining bright in the totally non-romantic way—for the very first time just a little over their one-month mark, and Jeonghan gets whiplash thinking about just how _long_  they’ve gone without him even seeing the _inside of Seungcheol’s bedroom._ Nothing like the kind of relationship he knew—quick, passionate, and easily broken off. 

There’s a golden retriever curled up on the checkered covers, and it lifts its big, silky head up when Seungcheol enters the room with Jeonghan in tow. On instinct, he tightens his grip on Seungcheol’s hand—Jeonghan’s never been good with dogs, and he hopes Seungcheol will overlook the unconscious reaction. But it’s Seungcheol, so of course he doesn’t—instead he laughs at Jeonghan and pulls him gently towards the bed, sitting him down at the edge and only letting go when the dog leaps onto with all the enthusiasm of a freight-truck.

“Woah! There, there, buddy, _sit,_ ” he laughs softly, and that’s how Jeonghan knows he’s unconditionally fond of his pet. “Roger, I’ve got a very special friend here today.”

Jeonghan leans back automatically, bracing himself for the same enthusiastic welcome Seungcheol was given—but the dog only shuffles closer and nuzzles his neck. He snorts and curls in on himself, petting the dog. “That tickles.”

“Yeah, he’s so clingy that he sometimes keeps me up all night. It’s crazy—he’s lucky I have a nice bed and can get a few good hours’ of sleep out of it regardless.”

“He’s lovely. But why don’t you just make him sleep outside?”

Seungcheol shifts. “It… just feels a little unfair. Usually he doesn’t even take up that much space, he’s okay with sleeping at the foot of the bed. I’ve had him for a while so it’s a habit, by now.” He looks up at Jeonghan through his lashes, and there’s question in his eyes. “I can’t really sleep without him.”

“That’s okay,” says Jeonghan, and he surprises even himself for picking up on the undercurrent question in Seungcheol’s confession: a request for permission.

It may not be the insatiable embers of passion that Jeonghan is feeling as he sits on the edge of Seungcheol’s clean-smelling mattress, but the warm intensity has never been more acute.

 

 

 

 **bemusement** _(n.)_

 

Sometimes Jeonghan catches Seungcheol staring at him and doesn’t quite understand the look on his face. Jeonghan brushes it off, chalking it up to his boyfriend spacing off.

 

 

 

 **best friend** _(n.)_

 

(A night they've now both forgotten, being drunk out of their minds after a cohort field trip to mine primary data in early October.)

“You’re my best friend.”

“Soooo?”

“You can’t be my best friend _and_ my lover.” 

“Why not?” 

“‘Cause I mean, who'd I come crying to if you broke m'heart?” 

"And what makes you think I’ll break your heart?"

 

 

 

 **blemish** _(n.)_

 

Seungcheol incessantly complains about the sunspots on his face, so Jeonghan kisses them to shut him up.

 

 

 

 **bossy** _(adj.)_

 

“That’s what you are,” grumbles Jeonghan. “You’re bossy, an annoyingly hot control freak. Fucking megalomanic hunk.”

Seungcheol bursts into laughter that threatens the scowl off Jeonghan's face.

“Calm down, Jeonghannie,” he sing-songs. “It’s just a photobooth picture, let me do what I want! We can get more after this. We’ve got time.”

“But I look really good in this one, I want to keep it.”

“Nonsense,” Seungcheol says nonchalantly, digital pen still hovering over the _Cutie!_ sticker he’s been attempting to place on their picture. “You always look good, my little munchkin pumpkin.”

“Don’t call me that, or I’m stealing this picture from your bag before I leave today.”

“You’d break the law for us? I’m so touched.” 

“Please just—give me the pen. There are two pictures, at least let me decorate one.”

Seungcheol pulls back from the screen, the pen loose in his hand and eyes twinkling in unknown mischief. He leans in and brushes his lips across Jeonghan’s cheek, only to chase after his lips when the latter pulls away in protest.

“Don’t try to distract me. Stop it.”

He grabs Jeonghan’s ass to press them close together and Jeonghan almost gasps out loud, suddenly thankful for the curtains around the photobooth.

“Who’s the bossy one now?"

 

 

 

 **bullshit** _(n.)_

 

They make out on Jeonghan’s couch, and inbetween their needy whimpers and impatient hips Seungcheol whispers _I want you forever_ into his ear. It makes Jeonghan laugh. They haven’t even had sex yet—what if Jeonghan turns out to be awful in bed?

 

 

 

 **brave** _(adj.)_

 

But Seungcheol holds onto his words, and Jeonghan lets Seungcheol into his heart when the latter was convinced he'd never be allowed inside—much less ever hope to stay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this](https://pa1.narvii.com/6548/9f3d7730069097e8252eb7120f88e3ed26026774_hq.gif) was the smile that I (pathetically) tried to describe... no amount of words can do this smile justice [sighs]
> 
> i'm on @aftershaved if you ever wanna say hi !!!


	3. C

**cadence** _(n.)_

 

Sometimes Seungcheol can hear it while they pore over articles in the Silent Zone of the library, Jeonghan humming so softly under his breath it takes Seungcheol’s level of attention—or infatuation, whichever one—to pick up on the noise. Rarely is it ever accompanied by any sort of muscle movement on Jeonghan’s face, his expression the perfect balance between quietly frustrated and stubbornly determined. Seungcheol can spend hours just staring with his book opened—and perhaps would, if only he doesn’t want to ruin the mood by making it obvious that Jeonghan stops singing to catch his eye and send him a disappointed look. He wonders what kind of expression Jeonghan would make if he could do more than hum under his breath, and this curiosity lingers for a good while after each of their study sessions. 

Said study sessions turn into study dates, and with this privilege Seungcheol finally decides to take matters into his own hands. They start completing their readings together in the lower ground of the library where the beanbags are, a semi-circular area where people are free to talk or sleep or have group meetings as they please. If this works, Seungcheol will finally satisfy his curiosity. 

Jeonghan sings the refrain of an old ballad song; Seungcheol maintains a straight face and remains mute under the pretense that he doesn’t notice the slightly louder hum than usual. He’s never wanted an afternoon to last forever as badly as that day.

 

 

 **care** _(v.)_

 

Seungcheol isn’t one to get mad over trivial things—annoyed, sure, but hardly for long, especially when it comes to Jeonghan and his ability to neutralise what was previously an acerbic situation. 

Except for one topic. 

“How did you end... you know, _things_ , with your ex?”  

Seungcheol tries not to be taken aback by the question and continues their walk to their next class, but he unconsciously speeds up and Jeonghan is never lets these things slip past him. 

“Not today?” he asks Seungcheol, voice softer. 

“Not today,” he agrees, but silently he’s determined never to revisit the topic ever again.  

(What he doesn’t know is that Jeonghan certainly doesn’t ask for the sake of being mean, or even out of spite or jealousy or curiosity.) 

 

 

**catharsis** _(n.)_

 

He gets Jeonghan to stay a little longer after dinner and kisses him breathless, pressed up against the arm of the couch, and mouths at least a hundred _I love you_ s onto his neck while relishing the soft moans Jeonghan lets out under him.  

He says it out loud half that many times during a re-run of their favourite childhood show from the 90s until Jeonghan tells him to shut up, and Seungcheol finds himself feeling a lot better. 

 

 

**chokehold** _(n.)_

 

Jisoo and Seokmin are over at Seungcheol’s place for lunch one day (his kitchen’s the only one that can somewhat accommodate more than a couple of people at a time) and Jeonghan makes a sarcastic remark about the fusion pasta he attempts to make. In his enthusiasm, Seungcheol puts a little too much power into his quickly-becoming-staple joke one day and it has Jeonghan hacking his lungs out and Seungcheol practically leaping off of him, freezing up as his face contorts into first, one of concern, and then panic. 

“Fuck—oh my god, fuck are you okay? Jeonghannie, I really didn’t mean—“ 

“I’m fine,” he wheezes, and then excuses himself to the bathroom before Seungcheol can take another look at his throat. Only the concerned questions from Seokmin reminds him that there are guests still present. 

He hadn’t meant to choke him that hard. He was barely squeezing, really, but Jeonghan spends an awfully long time in the bathroom. When he finally emerges and Seungcheol asks him what happened (and what took him so long) Jeonghan turns red and adamantly shakes his head. 

“Stop fussing,” Jeonghan insists, except when he says things like that it really only has the opposite effect on Seungcheol. 

They get back to their TV and eventually returns to snuggling. 

 

 

**closure** _(n.)_

 

 _“How did you end... you know,_ things _, with your ex?”_

(Jeonghan asks because he cares, and because he wants to know that there isn’t a page from books of a time long past left unturned.)

 

 

**cuddling** _(v.)_

 

“I hate it.” 

“You love it.” 

“Maybe if we go farther than _this_ , I’ll actually like cuddling.” 

Jeonghan blinks, the playlist Seungcheol’s just turned on humming softly in the background as his boyfriend returns with drinks in his hands to pull him out of his daydreams. 

“You look serious, babe,” he murmurs, settling down next to Jeonghan and immediately latching onto his neck. A strong arm drapes across Jeonghan’s torso and the warmth, weight, familiarity of it makes Jeonghan smile and lean back. 

“Up for some cuddling?” 

Jeonghan takes a sip from his glass. “Of course.” 

 

 

**chiseled** _(adj.)_

 

They’re trying to experiment with a brunch recipe Jeonghan found online. It’s a Sunday and Jeonghan had settled in at the small breakfast bar twenty minutes ago. The kitchen is hot. Seungcheol takes his shirt off.  

(Jeonghan, for the hundredth time that week he wonders why exactly he hasn’t spent an entire day putting his mouth on that chest yet.) 

 

 

**culminate** _(v.)_

 

Seungcheol wonders if, being a little over two months in, they’re still in ’the’ terriotory—the probation period, trial session, whatever else people want to call it. Because at this point, what should still be a puzzle slowly being pieced together has already become solid to Seungcheol and it scares him to think he’s got it so bad.  

(Re: the chest thing. It’s not the first time Jeonghan’s had these thoughts, and one day they’re going to stack like betting chips—tall, tall, tall until they crumble into an uncontrollable mess.)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Can anyone guess what I'm hinting at in this chapter kekeke~~
> 
>  
> 
> (Taking a small!!! hiatus after this entry while I try to tame real life - it's starting to roar like the wild lion its true form really is... thank you endlessly for your patience dealing with this bumbling mess!!!!)
> 
> I'm on @aftershaved on twitter or http://curiouscat.me/aftershaved if you ever want to reach me ♥


	4. D

**dance** _(v.)_

 

It was the perfectly-timed crossing of paths between lectures and classes. It was the orchestrated stumbling-upons inbetween library shelves and at the back of lunch queues. It was the star’s witty scheme of placing their names consecutively in the team formation ballots, and the sidestepping of Jisoo and Junhui during that fateful dinner at the most opportune of moments.

Now, it’s the way Seungcheol holds Jeonghan close in the middle of the living room, swaying in time to the tune that Spotify's _Timeless Love Songs_ playlist has decided to grace them with, but not really paying it much attention at all because the true music, really, is to be found in Jeonghan's obnoxious cackling whenever he successfully steps on Seungcheol’s foot; his surprised laughter when Seungcheol twirls him, giddy and champagne-drunk; the placid sigh when Seungcheol presses their lips together softly, slowing down to a stop, because he’s never been very good at multi-tasking.

This, after all, is Seungcheol's favourite kind of choreography.

 

 

 **decisions** _(n.)_

 

Seungcheol passes by a locksmith’s on his way to school—it’s the same locksmith place he’d walked past countlessly the past year, sitting at the street corner of one of his most frequented routes, but Seungcheol’s never taken a particular interest in it. That day, though, having successfully bundled Jeonghan into his bed after accidentally waking him up in the morning with the insistence of an extra couple of hours’ of sleep, Seungcheol is charged with a feeling he can’t quite put a name to yet.

Not just fondness, or contentment—it seems to go beyond these superficial names to a feeling so deep it has Seungcheol reaching into his pocket and tracing the outline of the key to his studio apartment. A tiny, tiny space—but certainly big enough for two.

 

 

 **distance** _(n.)_

 

It’s only apparent during holidays, when Seungcheol can no longer ignore his mother’s nagging and has to shove a few days’ worth of clothes into an oversized duffel bag no matter how much Jeonghan whines and pouts in complaint. His friends are wont to think he's being delusional, pathetic, dramatic, or all of the above whenever Jeonghan complains about Seungcheol’s voice not sounding the same over the phone speakers or his noise-cancelling headphones. It _does_ , because whenever they’re together, Jeonghan can pick out the ripple of amusement in Seungcheol’s voice when they recount their days to each other; the sudden hitch of breath when something in particular surprises him, or the little tremors of need and want when they’re pressed up flush against each other, so close they may as well meld into one body, the small rolls of their hips eliciting the most _delicious_ moans and pants out of Seungcheol’s red, bitten lips—

“Jeonghan? _Jeonghan._ ”

At the (amused, almost teasing) bark of his name, Jeonghan blinks out of his stupor, gazing down at the pixelated imposter that has Seungcheol’s name hovering above its box.

“You’re spacing out again.”

“Yeah, well, kinda hard not to when you’re not here to pinch me into focus.”

Seungcheol chuckles, but his smile is morose. “I’m sorry—I really… it would have been nice if you came with.”

Jeonghan scoffs a little because _of course_ , it would have been a lot less miserable if Jeonghan tagged along on the trip (from his own perspective, at least), but it’s not as if Seungcheol had even _asked_ him to begin with, nor had Jeonghan offered himself as company.

“Maybe when we’re both ready,” he murmurs into the microphone, heart beating less frantically when Seungcheol releases a tense breath and hums in assent. For now, it's a satisfying conclusion to reach.

 

 

 **diffident** _(adj.)_

 

Maybe guilt has its perks—makes it much easier to shove Seungcheol against a wall and kick his duffel bag out of the way when Seungcheol is acting so painfully _compliant_.

“Missed you.” It sounds like a plead, the way Seungcheol's palm tugs at Jeonghan’s nape to get him even closer, baring more of his milky throat for marking. “Missed you so, so much.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Jeonghan chastises, even as he shoves Seungcheol's trousers and boxers down in one fell swoop and frantically paws at every inch of bare skin he can reach, like he can never get enough. “It was only a week.”

“Speak for yourself,” Seungcheol barks out a laugh, cut off prematurely by a pair of very insistent lips on his and the consequent pulling and shoving in the general direction of Seungcheol’s bedroom.

Everything is a whirl of clothes stripped off, unintelligible noises bouncing off walls and general impatience—until it’s not. Seungcheol had crawled up the bed, rested himself against the headboard and when he lets his legs spread tantalisingly, Jeonghan’s struck with the sudden realisation that for all their experimentation, they’ve never gone this far—and none of Jeonghan’s fantasies have touched upon _this_ variation of the situation.

“Um,” Jeonghan says intelligently, and probably acting very un-sexy as he stares below Seungcheol’s curved dick, past his balls and to his— “You sure?”

Seungcheol colours immediately. “Oh, I’m sorry—I, I thought you wanted this—“

“Wait—that’s not what _—_ I do. _Of course_ I do. It’s just—” Jeonghan huffs out in frustration at his own incoherence. “To be honest, you’re such a control-freak I thought you’d be the one to fuck.”

Only a beat of silence before Seungcheol bursts out laughing at Jeonghan’s brashness, and Jeonghan would be annoyed at the perfectly ruined mood if not for Seungcheol holding his hand tenderly. “If you want, I can do that. Of course I can. But I—I just want you to know that with you…I want to try everything, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan’s palms clam up and he thinks Seungcheol notices the sheen of sweat because he frowns, but says nothing, patiently waiting for Jeonghan to respond.

“I don’t know how,” he admits, voice smaller than it’s been the entire night.

Seungcheol—sweet, angelic, perfectly sinless Seungcheol—gives him a tentative smile in return. “Do you want me to show you?”

It should be humiliating, or at the very least uncomfortable, for them to have this discussion in the middle of foreplay, completely naked with the cold air wafting in—but at that moment Jeonghan’s never felt so intensely appreciated that it takes all his willpower not to spend the next solid hour just kissing the life out of Seungcheol.

“Yes,” he pants against Seungcheol’s lips when he reluctantly pulls away for air. “I want to make you feel good, so good.”

“Everything you do to me feels good, Hannie,” Seungcheol murmurs into Jeonghan’s hairs and, with a gentle hand around his wrist, guides a finger to his entrance. “You can touch me here. Don’t be scared—you won’t hurt me.”

 

 

 **domestic** _(adj.)_

 

When Jeonghan watches Seungcheol stumble out of bed and into the kitchen in search of coffee, impressive bedhead and tiny limp and all, Jeonghan is hit with the greatest reluctance to ever leave Seungcheol’s bed.

When Seungcheol returns with two mugs in his hand—one hot chocolate, because Seungcheol isn’t a coffee addict in the weekends—Jeonghan is dizzy with the realisation that he wants _this_ —the bed, the mugs, the routine of stumbling out of bed and being the first to make coffee—to be something they share every single day.

 

 

 **doubt** _(n.)_

 

“ _Hannie, do you think the 3 for 2 deal is better or the pack of six? …No, not toilet paper,_ packs of beer.”

“Do we actually _need_ this mattress protector when we’re just going to soil it like. All the time? Sorry, I meant you. Haha.”

“Are you _—_ trying to kiss me or—or suffocate me to death?”

“A morning run? Like, jogging, in the morning? I don’t think there’s _actual_ fresh air to breathe in Seoul left, Seungcheol, now leave me alone to get some more beauty sleep.”

“ _Why did you get me a doormat? Huh. Reminds me of my first housewarming party."_

“Why didn’t tell me you were coming down with a fever— _god,_ I kept your ticket with the cinema attendant and now they’re totally gonna think I got fucking stood up. I’m coming in a— _no, don’t you even dare—_ I’m coming over in twenty, tops."

“You know, it’s probably easier for me to enter your apartment, in case of your extreme sickness, through a door, _with a key_ , instead of potentially breaking one of your windows.”

When Seungcheol just laughs lightly and waves him off, Jeonghan feels the unsolicited first waves of doubt ebbing into the peripheries of his consciousness, lingering even as he tries his best to bat them away.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI... I'M ALIVE... SOMEWHAT...
> 
> i really have no excuse for my absence except for the fact that school drained me of any passion for writing and since i'm on study leave right now, i'm trying to ease myself back into writing once again. it's going to be a long process with very little chance of success but!!! at least i'm giving it a shot!!! i hope y'all have been well and feel free to hmu on cc or twitter!! uwu

**Author's Note:**

> me to myself: you can't keep starting wips finish your other fics first damn girl


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